The Final Plan
by Kantrix Gabriel
Summary: He's been waiting for this chance for a long, long time now.  Danny Phantom, served up to him like a stuck pig on a platter.  Funny, how one ghost's plan can so easily become another's opportunity.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is the revamp of **_**The Final Plan**_** that I've been writing on and off since… goodness knows how long. It's pretty much a separate entity from the original, so please don't go back and read the first edition. Just forget it ever existed. It's for your own good, I promise. **

**All characters belong to Mr. Hartman. **

"We have to do _what?_" Danny asked with a groan, slamming his locker shut and turning to his friends.

"Pick one of the classic novels from the list, read it, and present the plot and characters to the class. It's not that bad, Danny."

"But we're already reading a book for class."

"We only have to read ten pages a night," Sam insisted. "You read more playing Doom."

"Still... another book? A _whole_ book? I can barely get Lancer's reading done as it is," Danny complained, setting off for the front door with his friends trailing along beside him.

"Just pick one that has a movie," Tucker suggested, looking the list over. "_The Sword and the Stone_ is on here, why not do that one?"

"Lancer will know the difference," Sam argued. "Besides, it's a Disney movie. How much of it do you think is actually true to the book?"

"Enough," Danny said, swiping the list from Tucker and giving it one more look-over. "It'll have to do."

"Why are you so set on not doing this project?" asked Sam, snatching the list and handing it back to Tucker.

Danny sighed, gazing quickly around the hall before he answered in a whisper:

"There've been a lot more ghosts out than usual."

"That's why you were so late to class?" Tucker asked, pushing the door open before them.

"Yeah," Danny answered, shielding his eyes from the bright sun as they stepped onto the sidewalk. "Skulker was on my tail again this morning."

"Didn't he come after you last night?"

"No, that was the Box Ghost. Sorry to cut off the chat like that, by the way."

"No sweat," Tucker replied with a wave of his hand.

"It's no problem," Sam agreed.

"So what are you guys up for tonight?" Danny asked. "Nasty Burger?"

Sam smiled, but shook her head.

"It's just me and Gran tonight so I want to get home kind of early. It's not often that we're rid of my parents for a whole night."

"Guys night out, then."

"Sorry Man, but I'm gonna have to take a rain check too."

"Tucker, turning down Nasty Burgers?" Sam asked, reaching a hand up for his forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Tucker responded, pushing Sam's hand away. "I just... I have somewhere to be tonight."

"Where?" asked Danny.

"I just... I have somewhere to be," Tucker answered. "Sorry, okay?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal," Danny answered with a shrug, "I should probably catch up on my sleep anyway."

"Okay, then I'll see you guys later," Tucker said, waving over his shoulder as he turned a corner and sped off down the street.

"Weird..." Sam commented, watching him go. "I don't think I've ever seen him move that fast without ghosts involved."

Danny laughed.

"Must be important."

"We can just bribe it out of him later," Sam suggested with a grin. "We both know he'll do anything for a large chili-fry."

Danny grinned, nodding.

"Sounds like a plan."

The oblivious love birds continued down the street, comfortably quiet in the bright sunlight of the afternoon. All too soon they approached the turn off toward Sam's house, and slowed.

"Sorry to abandon you for the night."

"It's no big deal," Danny assured her. "Like I said earlier, I could use the sleep."

"Okay," Sam responded. "Just... be careful. You know, with all the ghosts. And if you need help, I'm just a phone call away."

Danny smiled.

"Thanks. I will."

The two stared each other in the eye for several long moments before their cheeks flushed red and they turned away.

"Have fun with your grandma!" Danny called, waving Sam off.

"Sleep well," she responded with a wave before continuing on her way.

Danny watched her form shrink into the distance for some time before continuing on his way. As much as he understood her and Tucker's need to be elsewhere, it still left the half ghost feeling somewhat lonely. Friday nights were meant to be fun, but here he was trudging home barely half an hour after classes had ended. Then again, a nice relaxing Friday night might be just what he needed to get back on his feet from the latest string of ghost attacks. A fun movie, a long shower and bed. It did sound nice. Besides, he almost never flew around during the day. Maybe it would be fun to take an invisible sweep and see what everyone was up to. He could even fly to the lake outside town and go for a swim. It was definitely hot enough for one.

Danny turned toward the park, deciding it would be his best bet for a safe place to transform. Not that the park wasn't nice in and of itself. All the wildflowers were blooming, and the light filtering through the trees made really cool patterns on the ground. It was quiet too. There was barely a person in sight, short of a tall figure lazing on a nearby bench. He wore a black suit that contrasted nicely with his grey streaked white hair...

"Vlad," Danny muttered as he approached the billionaire, all thoughts of a relaxing afternoon gone.

"Daniel!" Vlad answered, "Imagine meeting you here."

Danny rolled his eyes, stopping before the billionaire.

"What do you want, Vlad?"

"Me? Want? My dear Daniel, I want what I've always wanted: you and your mother by my side."

"It doesn't matter how many times you ask, Fruit Loop. My answer's still the same."

Vlad's face darkened as he sat up, leaning toward his young enemy.

"Daniel, I am the only one that knows what you've been through. I'm the only one who can tell you what to expect from your powers, who can teach you how to use them to your full potential. I can protect you from the ghosts in the Ghost Zone, just as easily as I can protect the town you care so much for. Can Jack do that for you, dear boy? Can he?"

"I'm doing just fine on my own," Danny assured him. "I don't need anyone's help."

"But you do," Vlad insisted, rising.

Danny followed his movements with a glare, stepping cautiously back.

Vlad raised a hand, and Danny felt his hands snap together at the small of his back. Flinging a glance over his shoulder, Danny found a ring of red energy pinning his arms together.

Vlad laughed, transforming.

"You can't even protect yourself from me, Daniel. How do you expect to protect Amity Park?"

Danny squirmed against the bonds, turning himself ghost and vainly trying to phase through.

"I'll give you one last chance to change your mind, Daniel," Vlad offered, placing his hand on Danny shoulder.

The half ghost balked at the touch, struggling yet harder to free his hands.

"Never," Danny spat, shooting toward the sky.

"So predictable," Plasmius sighed, materializing a barrier only feet from Danny's head.

The half ghost slammed hard into the barrier, falling back to earth with a flash of light.

Plasmius reached down and threw the unconscious boy over his shoulder.

"Why must you be so stubborn?" asked Vlad as he turned them invisible and flew toward the sun.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I can't guarantee that updates will always be this often, but while I have the capabilities I figure I can at least get you guys started off properly. Thus I bring you part two. Posted less than a week after part one ^_^ **

**All characters belong to Bill Hartman and Billionfold Inc. **

"Jazz, have you heard from your brother?" Maddie asked, poking her head into Jazz's room.

"Not yet, why?" asked the teen, peering over the top of her AP psychology text.

"It's almost eleven and he hasn't come home yet."

Jazz looked at her alarm clock with a sigh seeing that it was indeed 10:57 in the evening.

"He probably just went out to see a movie with Sam and Tucker again," Jazz assured her mother. "The late show gets done at eleven."

"But he usually calls before they go out like that," Maddie insisted. "And he's not answering his phone."

"Mom, Danny never answers his phone. He probably left it in his room again."

Maddie frowned, shaking her head.

"I got that phone specifically so he could call us on nights like these."

"He knows, Mom. He's just such an airhead that he—"

"Jazz, you know your brother's been getting in a lot of trouble lately."

"No more than the other kid at Casper High," Jazz contested nervously.

"I got another call from the school today," Maddie added, stepping into the room. "You know he was late to class every day this week?"

"It's a miracle he made any of those days on time," Jazz laughed awkwardly, "he overslept every day this week."

Maddie's mouth quirked ever so slightly.

"He did, didn't he..." she mused, unconsciously rubbing her chin in thought. "Maybe he's growing again?"

"Might be," Jazz answered, glad for the supplied excuse. "He has been sleeping a lot."

Maddie sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Alright, I'll give him until half past, but if he isn't here by then..."

"I'll give Sam a call and see where they are," Jazz assured, picking up her cell. "I'll let you know if there's something up."

Maddie nodded.

"Thank you Sweetie."

"No problem," Jazz replied, watching her mother slip out and close the door behind her.

Speed dialing two, Jazz pushed down the bubble of fear trying to break free. Danny probably just got held up by the Box Ghost or something. The local haunts did seem to like harassing him whenever he tried to have fun. Or sleep. Or do homework...

_"Hello?"_

"Sam, hey. What are you guys up to tonight?"

"_'We' aren't up to anything,_" Sam responded, "_I'm at home with Grandma tonight."_

"Then do you know where Tucker and Danny went?"

_"Tucker ran off saying he had something to do. Danny sounded like he was headed home."_

Not good. Jazz paused, struggling not to panic. Danny would be fine. She just had to keep telling herself that: Danny would be fine.

_"Is there something wrong?"_ Sam asked.

"He hasn't come home yet," Jazz answered, climbing off her bed and grabbing her bag. "We haven't heard from him since this morning."

* * *

Danny woke with a groan, his head throbbing. He tried to open his eyes, but wherever he was, it was way too bright.

"Welcome back, Daniel," a familiar voice greeted the halfa, drawing Danny out of his half-awake stupor.

"Vlad," he spat, squinting into the light. "Where am I?"

"You're in the Ghost Zone, my dear boy" Vlad answered smugly, stepping back from Danny's wakened figure.

"What? Why?" asked Danny, searching the glowing gray walls around him.

"I'm tired of your childish behavior," Vlad answered, striding across the room. "It is time that you learned just how much you need my guidance."

Vlad pulled the single, windowless door open to reveal an all-too-familiar ghost.

"Welcome to my establishment," the warden said with a massive grin. "It's about time you paid for your crimes."

"No..." Danny whispered, eyes flying to Vlad.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Putting you in time out," Vlad answered with an evil grin of his own. "I'll be back for you in a few weeks."

And he stepped out the door.

Danny threw himself forward, reaching frantically for his nemesis' trailing cape. His feet flew out from under him as his wrists jerked back, tethered to the wall with thick green chains and shackles.

Vlad turned, an odd expression on his face.

"I'll be back before too long," he promised, his face almost... pitying?

And before Danny could really decipher the other halfa's emotions, the door closed.

Danny struggled to pull his feet under him, annoyed at the insistent pull of the chains. Slowly he managed to hoist himself back onto the shelf-like surface he'd managed to fall off of. It was only as he sat there, tugging uselessly at the chains that the obvious idea came to mind.

"I'm such an idiot," Danny muttered, turning human with a shake of his head.

"All I've got to do is..." but Danny realized with a start that his hands weren't phasing through the chains. He tugged at them, feeling the hard clank of metal chain links that bound him to the wall. They still glowed green, but remained completely solid.

"No," Danny whispered, tugging at the chains. "No no no no no no..." His voice began to escalate as he struggled, his slowly bruising wrists going unnoticed in his frantic attempts to get free.

"This can't be happening..." Danny cried, his mind spinning wildly as he remembered where he'd left his friends. Tucker went out somewhere secret. Sam went home. It would be hours before anyone noticed he was missing. The things that could happen to him in that time... the tortures Walker could inflict...

But how long had it been since Vlad had knocked him out? Danny wasn't sure. Maybe his friends were on their way right now. Maybe they were right outside the compound, locking onto his now-mostly-human DNA signature.

Danny took a deep breath and quieted. Setting his abused wrists in his lap, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

No need to panic. They'd come rescue him before long. Any minute now they'd come blasting through the wall.

Any minute now.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: It appears that I have a new found love of cliffhangers. Sorry about that.**

**All characters belong to Bill Hartman and Billionfold Inc.**

"Danny!" Jazz called, spreading the beam of her flashlight over the nearby ground. The trees of the park blocked most of the star and moonlight, casting eerie shadows over the normally friendly area. Then again, nothing looked friendly anymore. Not with Danny missing.

"Ah!" Jazz yelped, reaching back for the vibration in her back pocket.

Flipping it open one-handed, she continued to scan the area.

_"Find anything?"_

"Not yet," Jazz replied, "You?"

_"Nothing."_

Jazz sighed.

"Do you know what time it is?"

A pause. Jazz could hear Sam shuffling the phone a bit.

_"Ten after two."_

He'd been missing for almost twelve hours.

"I think… I think it's time we tell Mom and Dad."

_"You really think that's a good idea?"_

"No…but he's been gone too long this time. We don't have a choice."

_"What if it's ghost related?"_

"Then Mom and Dad can handle it. They _are _ghost hunters."

_"Jazz, _you _have more experience at hunting real ghosts than they do."_

"I'll keep an eye on them," she promised. "We'll all keep an eye on them. It's just… right now we need them. The more eyes looking for him the better. Besides, if we did try to keep it from them, what would we tell them?"

_"How are we going to explain all this time _without _telling them?"_

Jazz found herself at the other end of the park. Still nothing. Not even a decent excuse.

"I… I don't know."

_"Jazz, we can't go to them unless we tell them _everything._" _

"No. Danny would want to tell them himself. We just… wait. That's it!"

Jazz watched the falling star, thanking whatever luck had picked tonight of all nights for a meteor shower.

"Look up, Sam."

A pause. Sam took a sharp breath.

_"It's perfect. He's been trying to talk us into stargazing for weeks."_

"I've checked all the local stargazing spots," Jazz explained. "You helped me cover them when you heard he hadn't called."

_"We started to panic when we couldn't find him."_

"Now we go tell them."

_"I'll meet you at the car."_

* * *

"Welcome to the yard," a familiar voice teased as Danny was dragged into the exercise yard of the prison. Really it was little more than a large room full of prisoners, with the odd exercise equipment splayed off to the side behind a small collection of basket and footballs. Two overcrowded hoops hung to one side of the "yard," and two rickety nets swayed on the other, each passing ghost shaking their frames dangerously.

"What happened? Do something so wrong you felt the need to join us?" asked Ember, swaying toward the shaky halfa.

"None of your business," Danny answered, cautiously stretching his arms in the open air above him. It was nice to be free of the chains, even if the shackles were still there.

"Ah, but it is my business," Ember countered. "My job is to keep track of people like you. Make sure you don't cause any trouble, you know?"

"Why would I do something like that?"

"'Cause you love meddling," Ember answered.

"I do no—

"Hello, Ghost Child," Skulker interrupted, grabbing Danny by the front of the jumpsuit and picking him clear off the ground.

"Skulker," Danny growled, hands wrapping around the metal armored arm holding him in the air.

"I've looked forward to this day a long, long time."

"Skulker," Ember scolded, "you can't skin him here."

"No..." he said, grinning, "but there's no reason I can't prepare. The Whelp's done a lot in his time. I'm sure there are a lot of ghosts who'd _love _to help tenderize him."

Danny's eyes widened as he realized exactly what Skulker was implying.

"Let me go," the boy ordered, turning intangible and struggling to escape Skulker's hold.

The older ghost laughed, tightening his grip.

"You're shackled, Boy. No use trying to use your powers with those on your wrists."

The color drained from Danny's face. Without his powers he was just some out-of-shape kid. Against a fully armored ghost hunter.

Turning, Skulker raised the boy higher into the air and yelled:

"Look what we've got here. It's the _ghost boy._"

"No…" Danny begged, struggling frantically against Skulker's grip. A good many of the ghosts around the prison yard turned at the hunter's call. Evil grins, laughter, smirks. The sea of faces blended together as they moved toward Danny.

_They're coming_ Danny thought hysterically, _they'll be here any minute now_.

The first blow landed, knocking Danny from Skulker's grip. Scrambling to his feet, he bolted for the door. Slamming into it full force, he found it locked.

"Let me in!" he cried, pounding the door.

The guard didn't so much as spare him a glance.

"No getting out this time," Ember informed him face split with a glowing grin.

"Why are you all after me?" asked Danny, whirring to face the approaching hoards.

"It's something to do," a ghost informed him. Danny was sure he'd never seen it before.

"But I'm not your enemy!" he cried, pointing to the guards posted around the room, "They are! We should be trying to stop them!"

"We tried that last time, Sweetie," the Lunch Lady informed him. "Look where it got us."

"But you got out, didn't you?"

"And right back in," the Box Ghost informed him. "Back inside these steel cubicles of SHAME."

"Steel?"

"Yes, Ghost Boy, _steel._ Walker made his prison impenetrable to ghosts _and_ humans. Just for you."

Danny's mind reeled, struggling to make sense of everything they were saying.

"But that won't stop us from escaping! There are a ten of us in here for every guard. We could get out of here easily. Please, just give it a try."

"You think we haven't tried that? Even I, Technus – master of all things mechanical - could not overcome the security system that guards these psychedelic walls."

"But that was just you! Have you tried—

"We've worked together," Skulker informed him. "Walker learned his lesson – there is no escape this time. There's just this place – day after day. Until now."

"Yeah, now we have _you._"

_Just a couple more minutes_ Danny thought frantically, _If I just stall a little bit longer…_

The hoards approached, regardless of Danny's mental pleas.

No one came to save him.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I am working on making these chapters longer more exciting, but it's been a long time since I published work regularly, and a really, really long time since I worked at getting better, so there is a bit of learning curve. That being said, I'm also studying to take the JLPT in December so my life consists almost solely of studying. It's not an easy balance. I have had some recent inspiration, though, so hopefully there will be more updates in the near future. **

**Also, this story has been moved to an M rating to deal with the angry prison language and any mention of blood. I don't know where the line between T and M falls, so this is just to be safe. **

**All characters belong to Bill Hartman and Billionfold Inc.**

They pulled up in front of FentonWorks not long after three, am rubbing red-rimmed eyes and fidgeting in fear. The meteor shower had already ebbed into a still, but dazzling starry sky above them, twinkling and merry as it stared down on their dilemma.

"Ready?" Jazz asked, cutting the engine.

"As I'm going to get," Sam promised, unbuckling, gathering her things, and sliding out of the car.

"Mom is probably the one who's up, so this shouldn't be too bad," Jazz assured her, locking up and easing her door shut in the too-quiet night. Not a single house on the block had lights on, other than theirs, of course. Someone was up in the kitchen. Or Jack had forgotten to turn if off after his midnight fudge run.

"Remember the story?"

"Yes, Jazz, I remember the story," Sam grouched as they climbed the front stairs. "This isn't my first cover story, you know."

"I know," Jazz agreed, trying the front door. It was unlocked.

Slowly she peered around the front door, gazing through the dimly lit living room and into the kitchen. Sure enough, Maddie was seated at the table with a cup of hot cocoa.

"Mom?" Jazz asked, stepping quietly into the house.

"Jazz!" Maddie called, rising and hurrying into the living room. Her abandoned mug sat patiently on the table, more chocolate milk now than hot chocolate.

"What's wrong? Where have you been?" Maddie asked, drawing her house coat tighter over her nightclothes.

"We can't find Danny," Jazz blurted, completely free of preamble.

"He's missing?"

"We thought he'd gone stargazing – the meteor shower's tonight after all – but we couldn't find him anywhere. We looked in all the usual places he just…wasn't there."

Jazz's voice shook, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.

"Mrs. Fenton, we're sorry we didn't come sooner," Sam added from behind Jazz, "We just thought…"

"I understand," Maddie promised, drawing her daughter into a hug. "It's okay. He can't have gone far."

Jazz drew back from the hug and nodded, wiping a stray tear from her face.

"But just to be safe I need you to write a list of all the places you searched. Don't leave anything out."

"Okay," Jazz promised.

"Have either of you spoken with Tucker?"

"His phone was off earlier," Sam explained. "His parents said he would be home by midnight, though."

"Call for me?" Maddie asked. "See if he's seen Danny."

Sam nodded.

"I'll call the police station."

"Okay."

Maddie nodded once more and turned away, fighting down the lump in her throat as she went for the phone. Her little boy was missing? Sure, but it was far more likely that he had just gone to hide out at Tucker's for the night or found a new place to stargaze. At least, that's what she struggled to assure herself as she dialed the local police barracks. It would do no good to panic. She could think of all the 'what if's' later. For now she had to find her son.

* * *

Danny groaned as he tried to pull his arms down to a comfortable position. The chains clanked and pulled, ruining his attempts to lay flat and ease his throbbing ribs. A tear ran down his check as he curled against the wall – hands pulling angrily against the chains. Each struggle rubbed at his wounds, bruises darkening as he pulled again and again, wanting nothing more than the comfort of his arms against his aching chest.

The skin of his wrist finally split against the sharp of his shackles and a drop of blood fell into his still-operable eye. It stung viciously, driving a sob from his already wounded chest.

It burned as it ripped past his broken ribs, his raw throat, his torn lips.

It echoed around the darkened cell, bouncing from wall to wall like a thousand jeering voices.

_How does it feel?_

_Don't you like being the weak one for a change?_

_ What's wrong, Ghost Boy? A couple of lowly ghosts too much for you? _

Danny shivered, pulling himself up against the wall as his sobs grew stronger.

Why weren't they here for him?

Where were his friends when he needed them?

The hours rolled on, and his sobs morphed into vocal cries for help. He cried for his friends, for his sister, for his parents. His voice echoed off the glowing green walls, growing louder and more frantic, pleading and screaming. The other inmates heard him, their jeers echoing back into his hollow cell.

"What's wrong little boy? Miss your mommy?"

"Stop being such a whiny ass bitch and shut your mouth!"

"Ghost boy, you scream one more time and I'm personally going to come in there and—"

He didn't hear them. He screamed and screamed until his raw, aching throat would scream no more, and still he whispered his pleas into the cell.

As even his whispers began to fail, he felt a strange sense of coolness roll through him. It soothed the pain of his injuries and lessened the hollow in his chest, calming him.

Looking down with his good eye, Danny realized that he'd gone ghost. Green ectoplasm glowed under crusted-over blood, his pale hands now encased in white gloves. Why did it hurt less in ghost form? He idly wondered, his mind oddly lethargic, exhausted from long hours of unrelenting panic. Was it because ghosts weren't meant to feel? Were they really the cold, emotionless evil that his parents thought they were? Maybe that was why no one had come for him yet; because he was just a ghost in the Ghost Zone. Another mindless imprint of ectoplasm floating through the ether.

_No._ Danny mentally shook himself, driving the depressing cobwebs away. He was _human_, just like they were. Yeah, he had some cool powers, but that didn't make him a ghost. Besides, they loved him. All of them: Sam, Tucker, Jazz, his parents...

Even the cool of his ghost form he could feel a hollow ache in his chest at the very thought of them. He wanted them, _needed them_ so bad that it hurt. He needed someone to talk to, someone to tend his wounds, someone to take him up and tell him it was going to be okay.

He didn't think he could stand another day out in the yard. His body couldn't take another beating like this. He wasn't sure it could handle the first beating. Jazz's old nags about infections and the like floated around his mind, sending shivers up his spine. What if he did get an infection? Did the prison have a hospital? Would they know how to fix him? What if he ended up dying the rest of the way?

That thought sent him once more into dizzying spirals of panic. He was too young to die. He had friends and a family waiting for him. Probably looking for him, as a matter of fact.

Not that he'd given them much to go on. Sam and Tuck had no idea where he'd gone and Jazz had probably spent half the night covering for what she thought was a ghost attack. When they did realize he was missing they would have no idea where to look. He could be _anywhere_.

With a dejected sigh he let the train of thought fade, closing his eyes into the dim green glow of his cell. For some time he lay there, floating softly on the murmur of conversation between other cell mates.

"You hear about yesterday's game?"

"Football or basketball?"

"We don't have football here."

"Yeah we do. Little black and white ball you kick around the field with your feet. You uneducated bumpkins call it soccer."

"How do you see where you're going with your nose up in the air like that?"

"At least _I _know the difference between a ball game played with your feet and a sad, wimpy version of rugby."

"I have gotten five times more injuries playing _football _than you ever did playing rugby."

"It takes a special kind of talent to hurt yourself with all that padding between you and the ball."

"Dickhead."

"Are we down to simple name calling now? How quickly the unintelligent have fallen."

"Guys, do you have to do this all night?"

"Bitch."

"Douche."

"Guys…"

"Assbutt."

"Assbutt? Seriously?"

"GUYS!"

The shout drew Danny out of his stupor and back to the dull throb of pain. His arms were not appreciative of their position hanging from the chains.

With a groan, Danny pulled himself into an upright position against the wall – arms draped loosely over his knees. The movement had hurt less than he was planning, but that didn't mean much. He hurt so bad in so many different ways that a little stab of agony from moving broken ribs was nothing. The slight feeling of relief as his arms rested over his knees, though, that was beautiful.

It seemed like he sat there for an eternity, his mind floating numbly through space. The other inmates were arguing over anything and anything. The name-calling was apparently a regular thing – one that got old rather quickly. Before long they returned to the topic of games they'd played in the yard. One team insisted that the referee's calls had been bias. The other insisted that the calls were true to the rules – that player had double dribbled. An observer to the game claimed that the referee hadn't even been looking when the double dribble had happened, so it didn't count. The angry shouting match continued for ages, echoing around as Danny rested.

_And they said _I_ was loud._

Afraid to think on his own, Danny followed the strain of the argument, thinking of it as some cheap sitcom. The childish argument between the ghosts became amusing as he pictured their voices over well-known sitcom faces, assigning male voices to female characters and vice versa. The distraction was nice.

He'd just gotten through mentally watching a bass-voiced buxom blonde harass her soprano-voiced lover over whether or not fouls on the court counted if both parties involved were rendered unable to move, when the arguing quieted down.

"Yard time," called a guard along the end of the hall.

Danny's eyes widened.

He hadn't slept _at all_. No one had. How did they expect ghosts to go back into the yard when half of them were so badly wounded they couldn't walk on their own? There hadn't been time to sleep, let alone heal.

But as the guards came into his cell, unchaining him from the wall and pulling him into the hall, Danny realized that he _felt better._

He definitely hurt less, his ribs seeming nearly normal as he was prodded along.

And now that he thought about it, both of his eyes were open.

What the heck was going on?

But he didn't have long to ponder the revelation as he was unceremoniously shoved into the yard.

The other ghosts were busy stretching, moving about the yard to set up games and running competitions and the like. Danny moved quickly away from the door, searching for a corner to hide in. Unfortunately, the grounds were built to keep everyone in sight of the guards at all times. There was nowhere to hide. Only time to edge away, to try and run.

The halfa watched as Skulker was pushed into the yard, his armor hardly needing stretching. The hunter strode about the courtyard, eyes scanning faces for one particular target...

Danny groaned as Skulker caught sight of him, a massive grin spreading across the hunter's face.

Sliding into a nearby crowd, Danny did his very best to avoid the hunter. He knew it wouldn't last long, not in such a small yard outnumbered a hundred to one. Still, he had to hold on – to stall for time.

He had to keep himself alive.

**AN2: If you look real close you can probably spot a TV show reference in this chapter. It's to my current obsession, really. Extra points if you know what it's from and who said it. **


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: So much for updating in the near future… **

**All characters belong to Bill Hartman and Billionfold Inc.**

"What was the last time you heard from your son, Mrs. Fenton?"

"I saw him off to school yesterday morning."

"And you didn't notice anything out of the ordinary?"

"No, nothing. He went off with his friends, just like normal."

The policewoman nodded, scribbling down in her notepad.

"When was the last time you saw him?" she asked Sam, pen poised for more notes.

"He split off from Tucker, our friend, and I after school. Maybe three-thirtyish? He said he was going to go home and get some sleep. Wished me a good night with my Grandma."

The policewoman nodded.

"And he was fine then too?"

"Completely. I mean, he looked a little disappointed that we couldn't hang out with him, but otherwise he was completely normal."

"Why do you keep asking how he was feeling?" asked Jazz, eyes still wet. "He didn't run away. Danny wouldn't do that."

"I know you think he wouldn't, but we have to keep all possibilities open," the policewoman explained, her voice flat and clearly disinterested.

"What are you going to do to find him?" asked Maddie, leaning forward. Jack, his orange bulk oddly silent, snugged her tighter to his side.

"We'll activate the amber alert and fax his picture to every police station in the state. A couple of patrols will scan the area and we'll send a detective down to investigate the last place he was seen. Of course we'll let you know as soon as we find anything, but until then we'd like you to remain calm and keep your phones on you at all times. Someone should always be home in case he tries to call or even just finds his way back."

"We can probably handle that, officer."

"Good," she said, standing and putting her hat back on, "then I'll get back to you as soon as we hear something."

"Thank you Officer," Maddie said quietly, standing alongside her husband. They saw her to the door, watching as she climbed into her squad car and drove away. As she closed the door, Maddie realized her hands were shaking. It seemed odd, really. She knew she should be panicking, should be screaming or crying or any of the other myriad shows of pain that mother's of lost children did on the 48 Hours specials. But she wasn't. She was oddly empty, clearheaded even, as she thought of what to do next. The only thing that betrayed her fear was the gentle quake of her hands.

"We'll find him, Mads," Jack promised, his hand sliding down to cover hers.

"I know," she answered, pulling her hands from his and fisting them at her sides.

"I know."

* * *

Danny started out leaning against the wall this time, not bothering to try and lay down. His chains weren't any longer and his wounds weren't any lighter. Besides, resting his arms across his knees relieved at least some of the pain of the shackles.

So the halfa sat there, head bowed over his lap trying to sleep. Again the calm darkness alluded him, no matter how many imaginary sheep-shaped ghosts he counted. Letting his mind wander brought him to imagine his rescuers, calculating exactly why they where late (Vlad was distracting them) and calculating when they would arrive (any time now). But daydreaming about his family and friends only served to aggravate the pained halfa as he sat in his cell. His human form, already chilled in the Ghost Zone air and throbbing from wounds old and new, felt as though it had been hollowed out. He ached to hear their voices, see their faces. His eyes burned as he thought of them and what Vlad could be doing to them.

Still, a small kernel of hope wedged soundly in the middle of his hollow chest. It had been more than 24 hours since his disappearance. As long as he was in human form they could track him with the speeder and the Boo-merang could find him even in ghost form. It was all going to be okay in the end if he just believed. If he just trusted in the power of love and friendship and all that other stuff they talked about in the superhero comics. All he had to do was hold on until someone came riding to his rescue in a shiny white speeder. And try to avoid freaking out in the meantime.

Closing his eyes, Danny tried to drag his mind away from thoughts of his future rescuers. His mother had once tried to teach him to meditate and he would have loved to remember how to do it. There was something about clearing his mind and breathing deeply... but it had been ages ago. He doubted even Jazz remembered their childhood martial arts lessons.

The thought of Jazz brought a sharp stab of pain to his chest, ruining all thoughts of relaxing. Maybe meditating wasn't the greatest idea. Sheep were a complete bust and the inmates weren't even arguing yet, which left him completely without distraction.

With a sigh, Danny leaned his head back and looked up at the darkened ceiling. There weren't even tiles to count. But maybe if he stared at the ceiling long enough...

His mind whirred down to a quiet hum, and Danny felt himself drifting comfortably on the soft noise from outside. The gentle rustle of ectoplasmic clothing, the whir of machine-ghosts performing maintenance, the quiet hum of nearby specters. It was the same, Danny realized. He could hear ghosts in the same way he could hear when the TV was on, even if it was on mute.

Time dragged on. And on. And on. _Eventually_ unruly inmates began filling the buzz with their idle arguments and chatter. Danny latched onto their conversations as quickly as a man in a desert would seize water - searching for something, _anything,_ to distract him from his boredom.

Even knowing he'd been out in the yard twice now, he had no solid idea of how long he'd been in his cell. He guessed it was over a day's worth of time, but how on earth was he supposed to know for sure? As far as he could tell, there really wasn't a way to keep track of time in the Ghost Zone. Not without a proper watch, anyway, which no one seemed to have. Except maybe Clockwork.

Maybe Clockwork would come to save him?

No, probably not. Though it was a nice thought.

With a sigh, Danny tuned back in to the running argument. He was just considered joining in when the guards began pulling ghosts out of their cells. One by one they were taken from their cells and marched down the guarded hallway. Danny listened as they went, trying to identify who was where. He knew Skulker was on his block, and that Ember was somewhere down toward the end. Other than that, the ghosts were surprisingly unknown to him.

"Yard Time," the guard repeated once more, this time directing it to Danny himself. Nodding, the halfa extended his wrists for the guard to transfer.

His eyes widened, staring at the white-gloved hands the guard was unchaining.

He was in ghost form.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Happy Hanukah, Merry X-mas, Happy Holidays, and all those other holidays that I'm forgetting. **

**All characters belong to Bill Hartman and Billionfold Inc.**

"Any luck?"

"Nothing. You?"

"Nada. I'm telling you, man, this kid ran off."

"What makes you say that?"

"This kid's parents are _Ghost Hunters._ Why wouldn't you run away from something like that?"

"They seem to love him well enough."

"Sure, sure. But imagine the teasing that kid gets at school."

The cop paused in thought, tugging at the collar of his uniform.

"You think this could be a suicide?"

"God I hope not. The last thing this town needs is a death on their hands."

"Why do you say that?"

The detective scoffed, sipping his gas station coffee with a grimace.

"The fact that he's just a kid aside? The whole town believes in ghosts. I mean, look at his family."

"Excuse me," an angry goth near ground out, stopping before them.

"Nothing Miss," the uniformed cop informed her, waving her toward the building. "just discussing a recent case. Please, continue on."

"Your 'case' just so happens to be my best friend," she informed them, drawing to her full five foot height, "and Danny is no 'wacko.' Neither are his parents"

She stepped closer, face close to the detective.

"Stay around a few days. Maybe you'll join the ranks of us 'wacko's."

"Miss, we're just discussing the possibilities…" the cop assured her, leaning toward her level.

"Next time you 'discuss' the possibilities, try doing it somewhere that _isn't _crawling with Danny's friends and family. Or anyone else who lives in Amity."

The cop returned to attention, nodding ashamedly. The detective stifled a chuckle.

Sam looked them once over before striding angrily off to class, backpack swinging angrily behind her.

"Man," the detective whispered, "there's no way the kid offed himself."

The uniformed man shook his head, watching her stop next to a red-eyed black kid in a red beret to chat. Both shot them a glance before disappearing into the building.

"Seriously," he continued, sipping once more at his coffee shaped sludge. "She's the kind of girlfriend who would find a way to scream at him even after he's dead."

* * *

Once more Danny settled onto the cold slab that served as his bed, nursing various wounds as best possible. One leg wouldn't bend at his request, so he let it stretch awkwardly toward the ground. One eye was swollen shut and he was sure he had a couple of, if not broken, at least bruised ribs. Still, he was able to put his arms out for the guard who produced the necessary ghost drill from his pocket.

Drawing chains from the wall, the guard quickly bolted his shackles back on, shaking them a bit to make sure everything was secure. Content with his work, he backed away out of the small cell and locked the door behind him. Never did he turn his back to Danny – or any of the other ghosts for that matter.

Danny sighed as the guard's footsteps faded away, looking once more around his tiny enclosure for some weakness – some way out. He was sick of being beaten into a pulp every time he was dragged into the yard. The wounds were becoming less of a worry and more of an annoyance as his days dragged on. Each bruise, each cut, each possibly broken bone magically healed over cell-time. They still hurt, sure, but even that seemed distant – not nearly the kind of pain he should have been feeling. He didn't have the slightest clue why this was happening.

Time and time again Danny would space out as a human, only to find himself suddenly in ghost form. It was freaking him out. He'd gotten to the point where turning human took effort – partially because his injuries hurt more in human form, yeah, but also because it was forced. Where before his ghost form had taken energy to maintain, it seemed like now the opposite was happening.

Danny wasn't a very philosophical person – he hadn't really considered whether he was a ghost or a human. He'd taken for granted his halfa status and gone with it. Nothing to worry about, right? But being stuck in a cell for who knows how long with no one but himself to keep company with led to a lot of philosophizing – and a lot of worrying.

What exactly was the Ghost Zone doing to him? Was he becoming more and more ghostly? Did that mean he was loosing his humanity? Did it mean he was dying? If – no_, when_ - he escaped, would he still be able to turn human? Could he go on living a normal life in Amity? Would he be able to keep his secret?

More than that the logistics, though, was the question of what was happening to him. Gross as it was, he didn't know his own body anymore. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept, but he wasn't tired. He hadn't eaten or drank or… disposed of said things since he'd been taken, but he seemed perfectly fine. He sported black eyes and cracked ribs one minute, but was completely healed the next. It was harder for him to be human than it was to be a ghost.

Day after day, being harassed by Skulker and the other ghosts was becoming less and less petrifying. After all, what they did always healed. What the Ghost Zone was doing to him… that was the real horror.

But, there wasn't anything he could do about it. The chains and shackles were secure, the walls and everything else in his cage made of just as much steel as ghostly material. Even the yard was impenetrable. There weren't any ghosts in there that he'd consider an ally, or anything less than an enemy, really. He had no way to free himself. All he could do was wait for his family to come in after him.

He didn't want to think about what would happen if they didn't.

Hey, at this point he would be grateful if Vlad came and whisked him away. Disturbing as that was. Granted, it was probably all part of some master plan to get Danny to like him. Not that it would work. Danny remembered who got him stuck in there in the first place. That was something he would _never_ forget.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Happy New Year, everyone. May you all be facing a less stressful January that I am. **

**This chapter is a bit longer than previous, seeing as some pretty big stuff happens. I hope it is of some interest, at least. **

**All characters belong to Bill Hartman and Billionfold Inc.**

"Tucker, down!"

Tucker ducked, narrowly avoiding the ectoplasmic beam headed his way.

"Got it," he called.

The ghost followed him, small beams of energy piercing the ground around him.

Sam raised the thermos, fixing the beam on the distracted ecto-ox and sucking him away.

"Thanks," Tucker panted, trotting to her side.

"No problem," Sam replied, spinning the cover back on the thermos and twisting to toss it in her backpack.

"What is that, the third one today?"

"Fourth for me. I chased a ghost dog out of my parents' garden this morning," Sam informed him, fussing with her bag's zipper.

"How does Danny do it?"

Sam sighed, shifting her pack back into place.

"He has ghost powers, for one," she ticked off on one hand, eyes darkening but remaining miraculously tear free. "Then he never sleeps, doesn't finish his homework, and always shows late for class."

"Class!" Tucker cried, grabbing Sam's arm and dragging her toward the school. "Class starts in ten minutes!"

Sam followed at a lazy lope, glancing at her own watch. They were going to be as bad as Danny if they kept this up. It was the third day in a row they were both late, not counting the first day when they'd skipped altogether.

"Tucker, how long has he been gone now?" Sam asked, ignoring the honk of a passing car as she sped across the crosswalk.

"Three… days…" Tucker panted, "not… counting…"

"The day the police made us wait? So that's four. _Four days,_ Tuck. Why haven't we found anything?"

"'Cause we're… busy… hunting…" he gasped, out-of-shape feet dragging.

Sam stopped suddenly, nearly taking the feet out from under Tucker has he clutched her arm.

"What if he's been captured by ghosts?," she said, eyes wide. "What if he's in the Ghost Zone?"

Tucker stared up into her eyes, still struggling for air.

"Of… course…"

"We need to get through the portal," Sam said, "we need to find him."

"Now?" Tucker asked, voice decidedly high pitched.

"Yes, now."

"But what about class…" Tucker reminded her, halfheartedly.

"Class can wait," Sam informed him, leading the way back toward Fenton Works.

:::

Jazz, taking her senior skip day to full advantage, was already waiting for them at the house.

"Why didn't we think of that before?" she cried, ushering them rapidly into the house and down to the basement.

"Where are Mr. and Mrs. Fenton?" Sam asked, cautiously following Jazz down the stairs.

"Out at the police station," she explained, zooming around the lab and gathering bits and pieces. The place looked like a tornado had hit it, what with more tools on the ground than the tables. The weapons vault was open, the portal splattered in some sort of odd colored goo.

"What happened here?" Tucker asked, tiptoeing his way toward the Speeder.

Jazz sighed, her motions slowing ever so slightly.

"Mom hasn't been… well… she's been kind of frustrated lately."

"So she trashed the lab?"

"Yeah."

Tucker nodded, sharing a glance with Sam.

"I think she blames ghosts for his disappearance," Jazz explained, tossing an armful of stuff into a cardboard box and heading back toward the Speeder. "I mean, she thinks that if she wasn't paying so much attention to ghosts then maybe she could have seen this coming."

"She blames herself."

"Yeah."

Jazz set the box inside the Speeder and began clearing things from around it. Sam and Tucker knelt to help.

"How's your dad handling it?"

"He's spending all his time taking care of Mom and me. He makes sure we eat, makes sure I have my homework done, makes sure we both sleep some. But… I don't know, I haven't seen him eat in ages, and every time I come downstairs at night for warm milk or something, he's there. I can't remember the last time he slept in."

"It sounds like he's taking it hard himself."

Jazz nodded, lip clenched strongly between her front teeth.

"Hey," Sam said, abandoning the ecto-gun remains she was relocating and moving to Jazz's side. "You know we'll find him, right?"

Jazz nodded.

"We have a lead now. We know he's probably in the Ghost Zone. If he's in human form the Speeder will be able to track him, and if he's not then the we'll use the Boomerang."

Jazz attempted a watery smile, still silent.

"Ahh!" Tucker yelled, followed by a massive crash.

The girls leapt to their feet, peering around the Speeder to the boy spread eagled on the floor in a tangle of machinery.

"I'm alright," he offered, just as one of the parts next to him sputtered and crashed.

Sam smirked.

Beside her, Jazz started laughing.

Both freshman stared at her like some sort of alien, watching her giggle madly. Yet, even in their confusion, they felt giggles of their own start to climb free. Sam took another look at Tucker's machine scattered form and burst into laughter. Tucker managed his indignant huff only so long before he too was vibrating with humor.

When at last the giggles faded, they were all sitting in a rough circle, eyes wet. Their fear for Danny was now somewhat smothered by a new emotion.

"So we're gonna use the Boomerang?" Jazz asked.

"Seems like our best bet," Tucker agreed, climbing out of his accidental mess.

"And it has worked before," Sam added, shoving stuff out of the Speeder's path with what looked like it had once been a large broom.

Jazz nodded, wiping residual tears from her eyes, and stood.

"Then maybe Dad will have a good reason to cook dinner tonight."

:::

Danny wandered around the yard, eyes warily tracking the infamous hunter. This was the second yard time in a row that Danny had been allowed to wander freely without pressure from Skulker, and it was starting to creep him out. The other ghosts in the yard had lost interest in him ages ago, but Skulker seemed completely immune to monotony. That is, until yesterday when the hunter simply decided to join in on a halfhearted game of football with the others.

So why was he suddenly loosing interest? Better yet, why had _everyone_ lost interest?

The movement that usually occurred in the yard – the games, the fights, the competitions – they were all gone. Some small groups were whispering conspiringly, but otherwise ghosts were just wandering aimlessly. Even Skulker was leaning up against the wall of the complex, eyes on the sky.

The listlessness had happened fairly slowly over the course of the last few yard times. First the fighting seemed to die down. There was no name calling, no screams of indignant anger when the referee called foul, no sudden scraps out in the yard. Then the referee stopped calling fouls and ghosts drifted in and out of the game areas. Reluctant games of basketball would end not twenty points in. The fighting stopped altogether, with even Skulker backing off. Everyone just kind of… slowed down.

It was eerie: eerier than the Ghost Zone on any given day. It wasn't just the quiet, either. It felt like something was… off. Danny had never been a very intuitive person, that was Jazz or Sam, but it felt to him like something bad was going to happen. There was no other way to describe it: just that deep sense of foreboding.

He was approaching Skulker when it happened. If anyone was high enough in the prisoner hierarchy to know what was going on, it'd be him. Besides, Danny needed to get some of the dignity back Skulker kept beating out of him.

The very world around them seemed to sink inwards. Yet, it wasn't all like that. It was like some things were shrinking and some were expanding and the world was being pulled from everywhere at once. The room grew darker, the strange ambient light of the Ghost Zone dulling slightly in the stretch. The air grew heavy with silence, even the whispers gone quiet. In all the motion of the world around them, the ghosts stood stock still - everything was still as the world twisted and bucked and finally snapped back into place.

Several ghosts stumbled, many dropped to the floor to keep their balance. Angry, confused mumbles filled the area.

"What was that?" asked Skulker, stepping from the wall and walking toward the ghost boy.

Danny fought the urge to flee, struggling to steady his stomach. His eyes were still fighting to adjust to the lower light, his skin tingling.

"I don't know," he answered, honestly.

"Boy, if your parents are screwing with the Ghost Zone again…"

"My parents? What about your boss?"

Skulker turned to glare at the boy, but otherwise said nothing.

"Everyone line up by the door!" called one of the wardens.

"Hey, what did you just do?" called a voice from the crowd.

"Yeah, what is this?"

"What the hell, man?"

"Line up by the door!" the warden hollered once more, wand raised. "Do not make us resort to violence."

The crowd was restless as it drifted toward the door, all the listlessness of before forgotten. Jeers from the prisoners kept wardens tense and snappy, throwing extra restraints on even the weakest of ghosts. By the time Danny came to the front of the line, Walker himself was there to oversee the transfer.

"Are you going to tell us what's going on?" Danny asked as he was led on past the head warden.

Walker spared him a smirk, but it lacked the usual gleeful glint.

"You don't know either…" Danny blurted.

Walker's eyes narrowed as he leaned in close to the boy. Nose to nose Danny could see his jailor's fear, thickly shielded by his attempt to be intimidating.

"Get him to his cell," the warden growled, stepping back to allow his underlings to shove Danny forward.

Danny watched over his shoulder as the guards pushed him forward. Walker was straightening his jacket as he stood, beady eyes glaring over the ghosts of the crowd. Aware of Danny's stare, he spared him a narrow-eyed glance before he returned his eyes to his duties.

"Pay attention," one of the guards scolded, shoving Danny's shoulder.

The halfa snapped back to attention, watching the prisoners angry faces pass as he was led back to his own central cell.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: So… you may not have noticed, but things have started moving along quite nicely. We're getting to actual plot now. It's kind of exciting ^_^ **

**That being said, I'd love to hear your thoughts on what's happening. **

**All characters belong to Bill Hartman and Billionfold Inc.**

Danny hunkered down in his cell, ears perked for any sign of life. Or afterlife, as the case may have been.

Since the Darkening, as everyone was calling it, they had yet to be let back into the yard. Everyone just sat around, sulking in their cells for a period of time that felt so long to Danny that he was beginning to fear for the worst. Vlad had promised to be back in a few weeks, but for all Danny could tell it felt like years since he'd last set foot outside the compound. The time since the Darkening alone felt like months.

He hoped dearly his mind was playing tricks on him.

Just because he had trouble remembering what it felt like to move around without the chains on his wrists rattling angrily did not mean he had been here too long.

It helped that there had been no contact from the guards, no sight of Walker, and not the slightest mention of movement around the facility. It was like everything just shut down after the Ghost Zone dimmed to a darker, more sinister hue.

For a good long time the ghosts around him debated what was happening. Some claimed that it was Walker's doing. They claimed it was something he'd done to screw with the prisoners. Something he'd invented so he'd have more excuses to arrest ghosts. The majority argued against that, claiming that the sudden lockdown was because Walker didn't have the slightest clue what was going on. He was probably blaming it on the prisoners, said one slight, punk-style ghost. That would explain why everyone was under house arrest.

Theories ranged outward from there, including anything from alien invasion to ghost hunters. There was even a movement to blame Danny, though as Skulker had reluctantly pointed out, the ghost boy couldn't do anything from inside the jail. The others had grudgingly agreed, backing off of their vocal abuse and leaving the halfa to listen in peace.

Not that they stopped harassing his parents. Danny had spent ages listening to the things his parents may or may not have done. Someone thought they'd done it as a giant experiment to kill the ghosts. Others thought it was accidental. They claimed that the "big bumbling one" had probably screwed up the Ghost Zone – Human Zone connection by screwing with his portal somehow. An elderly ghost suggested that maybe they had shut the portal and the lack of energy from the human world was what caused the instability. Danny himself had argued against that one, more out of desperation than anything.

One ghost had suggested that Vlad might be the problem. He was silenced quickly and efficiently by those around him.

Theories grew boring after a while, leaving way to the usual insult wars and vocal games. There was only so much 20 Questions one could play, however, before you ran out of things to describe.

Danny found his interest drifting to the elderly ghost in the cell beside him. The old ghost told fascinating stories of dragons and elves, of sword fights and intrigue, of man against nature, of man against machine, of old wizards and young boys and children that would never grow up. So many of the stories rang familiar to Danny's mind that he gathered the bravery to ask where the ghost had heard these stories.

Instead of the angry retort Danny had expected, the kind old ghost explained that they were all books he had read when he was alive. He was angered to hear that the only way Danny had heard of the titles had been through moving pictures, insisting that written word was far better. There was no way flashing images could properly imitate the mood of ghost stories around a campfire.

Danny didn't have the heart to fight with the old ghost, or to explain the use of CG or sound in modern movies, so he chose instead to urge the old ghost on. He took to immersing himself in these fantastical worlds, hanging on each new tidbit the old ghost offered. Others around them did the same. It staved off boredom for a fair while, at least.

The old ghost was struggling to remember a new story at the moment, leaving Danny bored out of his mind.

That is, until the jail around them vibrated with the force of a distant explosion. A million whispered conversations spread through the cells as the distant booming sounded again, louder this time.

Could it be his friends come to save him? Danny wondered, face pressed close to the bars as possible as he struggled to look down the hall. They knew they could pass through the walls of the jail, so it seemed kind of odd that they'd be blowing the place up. Granted, that was before Walker reinforced everything with steel… But maybe they'd run into someone and had to fight? Much as he worried for their safety, Danny couldn't help but relish the hope flooding his hollow chest. Hell, he'd be happy if it was Vlad come to rip him out of the jail. Or just some random attack that would damage his cell and let him free _Pirates_ style. He'd take whatever he could get at this point.

The explosions approached slowly, the sounds of angry guards echoing down the corridors as they fought. For a while it sounded like a proper fight with angry orders to "Stop" and "Get back in your cell!" But soon shouts turned to screams and the sounds of fighting turned to sounds of slaughter. Ghosts stopped whispering and sunk back into their cells. This was something no one wanted a part of.

But Danny remained at the end of his chains, one leg stretched back so he could lean up closer to the bars. He watched as dust and beams of ecto energy floated closer like a sinister cloud. Fighting a sense of fear building in his own chest, Danny watched a sinister figure float closer.

At first glance Danny could have sworn it was Vlad. He felt his heart leap as he saw the sweeping cape. But the hair was wrong. The beams of energy, too, were different in color. In fact…

They were bright green.

Had Danny been breathing in ghost form, he was sure he would have lost all ability to draw air into his lungs. The figure that haunted his nightmares drew closer, the D insignia visible on his chest, and Danny shrunk back into the depths of his cage.

"No," he said, voice shuddering in the shadows. "No no no no…"

"Oh yes," the figure said with a sinister grin, fangs flashing in the dim light of the corridor. "Oh, yes."


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: This has been a very, very long week for me so forgive any suckiness in the following. I figured getting it out to you guys was more important than fussing endlessly over whether it was good or not. I've also never written Dan before, so yeah.. do let me know if he's completely OOC. **

**All characters belong to Bill Hartman and Billionfold Inc.**

"I heard rumors you were gracing the walls of Walker's prison. I hardly dared believe it, and yet here you are."

"What… How…?" Danny struggled to pick a question, fumbling over fear and confusion as he pressed himself against the back wall.

This only amused Dan further.

"Surely you didn't think I could be held in a Fenton Thermos?" the older ghost alleged, slinking closer.

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

"'What do I want?'" he chuckled, though his voice held no humor. "I don't _want_ anything. I've come to take what is mine."

He leaned forward, nose inches from Danny's.

"But first, I have to clear the obstacles from my path. That includes you."

Danny tried not to let his voice quiver as he stared into his future self's eyes.

"If you kill me you're only killing yourself."

The evil cackle was deafening as Dan stood back, empty eyes glowing in the dim light of the cell.

"That would be the case, were I still within the time stream."

"What?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Dan shook his head.

"Forgive me," he said, "I forget how stupid I once was. How stupid _you_ are."

His eyes locked with Danny's once more, emotionless words explaining the situation with a bored drawl.

"If I'm outside the time stream, then my existence no longer depends on yours. You could die here, I could go back in time and make it so you were never born, and it wouldn't matter. I would still be here because I exist outside of time."

Suddenly Danny felt cold, his stomach twisting in fear.

"How…"

"Come on, Danny. You once existed out of your time. How did you do it?"

Danny's eyes widened as he drew the memories forth from his mind. He remembered it so vividly: taking the time medallions from Clockwork. He remembered Dan shoving one into his chest so he couldn't escape. He remembered Future Vlad ripping it out so he could snap back to the present.

"You honestly think I'd put a time medallion in you, then pass up the opportunity to put one in myself? God, how could I have ever been this stupid?"

Danny stared up into the red eyes of his possible future self as the details fell together in his mind. Sam and Tucker had left two medallions behind. It would have been simple for Dan to put one within himself, just as he had to Danny. It explained his presence in Danny's time. It explained how the cocksure ghost was still here in Danny's time.

But not why he was here in the prison.

"Now, do you have any more questions before I blast you into oblivion?" Dan asked, energy gathering around his palm.

Danny shuddered, eyes darting around the cell, brain racking to come up with something to stall for time: some question that would buy him time to come up with a plan. He couldn't fight back, not with the shackles on, and he couldn't run with them chained to the wall. There was no one to come and save him this time, and no hope of escape.

He pulled uselessly against the shackles as the energy in Dan's palm darkened and grew. What the heck was he supposed to do now? He was too young to die. His parents didn't eve know what had happened to him. They'd never know where he went. Vlad would come back and there'd be nothing left of him.

He didn't want to go this way. Not now. Not here.

The elder ghost raised his hand, holding it only feet from Danny's head. With a smirk he locked his cold, emotionless eyes onto Danny's.

"What is going on here?" demanded an angry voice, just as Dan released the ecto-energy from his palm.

Danny ducked, covering his face and dodging the brunt of the now slightly misdirected blast. Debris rained down and his chains fell from the wall with a rattle, slamming down onto his back.

Dan, who had whirred round at the sound of the warden, did not notice the young halfa slip the remains of his restraints and limp invisibly from the room.

:::

Now free of his shackles, Danny picked himself from the ground and flew for all he was worth. The world whizzed by in flashes of green and black and red as he sped through the debris Dan had created. The sound of angry, wounded ghosts echoed behind him as Danny flew through the whole Dan had created at the edge of the compound, and into freedom.

As he flew from the fortress, Danny struggled to think of what to do next. There was no way he could face his future self as he was. Dan was way more powerful than him by ten years and half a ghost. The only reason Dan had not won their last battle was because Danny's ghostly wail had emerged; there was no way he could pull that kind of surprise off again. What's more, Danny hadn't moved, hadn't done anything other than sit in his cell, get beaten up, and wander in circles around the yard for the last who knew how long. Chances were good his meager fighting skills had gotten rusty.

So what to do? He couldn't leave Dan wandering free. The ghost knew his weakness. If he couldn't find Danny, he'd go for Danny's family and friends. That could not be allowed to happen.

Danny nearly jumped out of his skin at the massive eruption of sound behind him. The strange new swirls in the Ghost Zone's atmosphere shuddered under the force, drawing Danny's attention to the now distant prison island. He watched, awestruck, as the prison was blown apart from the inside. Brilliant emerald ecto-energy flashed into the darkness, lighting up the surrounding area as it cast off massive chunks of the building, the island, and what Danny could only assume was the inmates and guards.

Shuddering, Danny dodged to a nearby island, sinking deep into the forests and hiding himself in the bush. He needed time to think. He needed time to calm down. He needed a plan.

He couldn't face Dan alone, that much was certain. He needed help. Clockwork had been there to help last time, but chances were good that he wouldn't be around this time. For all Danny knew this could be some screwed up test that the ghost had constructed for him. That pretty much exhausted the list of Danny's ghostly allies.

So he'd have to ask his human allies. It would make it somewhat easier to protect them if he warned them. Besides, his parents might have some sort of equipment in the lab that could be used against the ghost. A trap was probably the only way they could go about it. There was no way Danny could handle the hand-to-hand combat. A trap, though, that could work…

Granted, this all rested on Danny's ability to get through the portal unnoticed. Dan would know where he was headed. It was a matter of whether or not he would guard it himself or wait to chase Danny down later. But which would he choose?

Danny groaned, already working up a pretty impressive headache. There was a reason he always left the thinking to the straight A students (Sam and Tucker) while he, the straight B- student, could do the brunt work. It was a nice arrangement. He really, really wished they were there to help him now.

Yet here he was, all alone in something that looked like and yet completely different from the Ghost Zone. The bright emerald Danny remembered was long gone. In its stead lurked sinister swirls of deep green that darkened to black in some places, obscuring doors and islands and wrapping the Ghost Zone in a further cloak of mystery. It was eerier than Danny remembered, few of his old landmarks still recognizable. It made the absence of his friends all the more vivid and all the more petrifying.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Sorry it's late, folks. I've just finished the winter semester and hosted a friend in my room for the past few nights. There hasn't been much time to write. But, the only way I'm gonna get anywhere in this story is if I keep pushing myself, so here's the next chapter. It gave me a really hard time for some reason. Do tell if it sucks. **

**All characters belong to Bill Hartman and Billionfold Inc.**

Long after the echo of the explosion had disappeared, Danny remained hidden in the ghostly green brush. Several hours of thought had done nothing to help his indecision. To go or not to go? To go now or go later? To approach head on or swing around from an unusual route?

It wasn't all strategy that trapped him in his own indecision. The endless stretch of swirling green was intimidating. Part of him missed the simplicity of Walker's prison. There was only so much that could go on in those walls – only so many ghosts that could get their hands on him. Out here… Dan wasn't the only thing he was afraid of. He almost wished he was back in his cell.

But here he was, lurking in the shadows of the Ghost Zone, sandwiched between a glowling green picker bush and some sort of fern. It was not the most comfortable place to be, not by a long shot.

Flashes of energy lit the distant sky, moving slowly off from the prison. The color was lost in the distance, leaving bright white flashes that lit up the darkness. There was no way to be sure, but it could be Dan. It was all Danny could think as he watched the power show flash and spark across the sky. They were moving away from the portal. It was now or never.

Danny shot down below the island to approach the portal carefully from an unusual route. He may not know a lot about strategy, but it seemed like the best idea even to him. He'd had enough near-death experiences for a lifetime – best to dodge the fighting and possible following as best possible.

As he moved carefully through the darkened Ghost Zone, eyes roaming the changed scenery, he imagined his homecoming. He pictured his friends' relieved eyes, his mother's teary smile, his father's bone-crushing hug, even his sister's sobbing embrace. It warmed the cockles of his heart for the first time since he'd been slammed into Walker's prison. He was so close, now. All he had to do was make it by Dan, then he could be home.

As he grew closer, Danny's mind flew to his family. Were they okay? Were they still looking for him? His mind supplied images of his sister and mother's teary eyes as they embraced him, his father's bone-crushing hug. He could imagine Tucker and Sam's faces clear as day as they ran forward to scream at him for disappearing without a word before they latched on, never to let go again.

All thoughts of Dan were pushed away by the hope in his heart and mind. Right now he didn't have the energy to spare pondering his enemy's next attack. He didn't think of the danger he might bring his family and friends by returning, or how his respite from Dan's attack would last only days, if not moments.

His innocent young mind valued hope so much more than caution.

Passing by Klemper's door, Danny couldn't help but smile. The portal would be visible any minute now. He was almost home. The strange new feeling of hope filled his chest and he struggled to contain his joy. His grin could have lit up half the Ghost Zone.

Then he found himself staring at the familiar pink flowered door that told him he'd gone too far. Danny nearly smacked himself in the head. He missed the portal. He was so hopeful and so happy that he'd completely missed his door home.

He turned round with an embarrassed grin and aimed himself for the portal.

But it wasn't there.

Danny's eyes widened, pressure in his chest increasing as he flew frantically forward, running his hands through the space where his portal home should have been. There was nothing, no indication that the space here had once been broken.

The halfa glanced around, scanning frantically for the familiar crack in space. Maybe he'd screwed up? He remembered coming by the creepy kid's room and Klemper's icy lair – it was supposed to be right here.

"Ghost Boy," a voice called, it's high pitch nearly lost on Danny's ears.

Danny spun toward the source, eyes narrowed as he searched the surrounding area. Amongst the doors was a dark shape, floating aimlessly in the shadows.

"Ghost Boy!" it called again, voice faint over the distance.

"What?" asked Danny, attention firmly caught as he drifted slowly toward it. He couldn't quite make out who or even what it was…

"It's not there," the figure answered. "Your portal is gone."

Danny's eyes widened, mind blanking in fear as he paused his approach.

"What do you mean?"

"Your portal is gone. There's no way for you to go home here," the voice explained. It's form remained unnaturally still, wavering only as it limply rode the energy of the Ghost Zone. "Help me, and I will show you another way out."

"No, it can't be gone. I must have made some mistake, I could have come the wrong way or maybe it got moved when the whole Zone went to—

"It's gone, Ghost Boy," the form called once more, jerking Danny from his blind horror.

"Who are you?" Danny asked, squishing his fear as best possible. His rational mind reared its ugly head and he suddenly needed to know if this was a threat. He needed to know if it was because of _this_ ghost that he couldn't go home.

He drew closer, to the point where he could see more of the details on the ghost. He could practically touch the strange figure, but his mind couldn't grasp exactly what this thing was supposed to be.

The ghost laughed, squeaky voice echoing across the space.

"Do you not recognize me, Whelp?" it asked, the words strange in his squeaky voice.

Danny frowned, eyes struggling to reconcile the strange pile of wires and tubing before him.

"Skulker?"

"My suit has been damaged," the hunter replied, ignoring Danny's inquiry. "I cannot eject from it without assistance."

"And you want my assistance?" Danny asked, arms crossed. Even through the white terror of his situation, he felt oddly satisfied staring at the jumble of junk that had so recently been his tormentor. What little remorse he felt for the helpless entity was more that he had not done the damage himself.

"Assist me and I will take you to my employer's portal."

"And what makes you think his portal is still there?" Danny asked. "If my portal is….missing why would his still be there?" He tried not to think about the implications of the missing portals. It could be they'd just been moved, after all. Just knocked a few feet off to the right or something…

"My employer's portal was no accident. He knows how to properly stabilize the rift," the tinny voice informed Danny, it's believability not helped by its cartoonish lilt. "It _will_ be there."

Danny glowered at the remains of Skulker, weighing his options. He would do anything to get home at this point. He was disturbed even by the idea that he was considering going with the hunter that had made his life a living hell for the last who knew how long.

But the other portal… he could still see his family in his mind's eye. They were waiting for him. He _needed_ to get back to them.

Besides, what damage could Skulker possibly cause without his suit?


End file.
